


"You're Gonna Get Through This"

by pawsdash



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Addiction, Crying, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, M/M, Phase Four (Gorillaz), Protective Murdoc Niccals, Sad Stuart "2D" Pot, Sickfic, Sobriety, Vomiting, Withdrawal, muds is a softie, noodle is a sweetie, ooc murdoc, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 06:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14099046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawsdash/pseuds/pawsdash
Summary: No one who knows Murdoc Niccals would expect him to have any soft spots at all- but this time, he can't hide it.***In which Murdoc is very out of character and Noodle is the best little sister ever





	"You're Gonna Get Through This"

No one who knew Murdoc Niccals- or whom had even spoken to him briefly- would expect that the man would have any soft spots for anyone, least of all 2D. Of course, this may have been true at some point, when Murdoc had felt the need to hide himself in his younger years. Despite this, in his old age, the man had become particularly more lenient with his emotions; not in front of others, of course- just with Stuart. And so, this tender place which he had reserved in the corner of his heart would come out once he was alone with the other, alone and in the darkness with nothing but skin and skin and skin to anchor him. It was moments such as these in which he couldn’t resist the waves of empathy which wracked him.  
Stuart’s knuckles were white with strain, fisting the grey sheets beneath him with seemingly all of the strength that he had left. His face was sheen with a thin layer of sweat, contorted into an expression of incomprehensible pain. It was almost as though his limbs were possessed by the agony, leaving the his limbs to stretch and constantly writhe, trembling if he dared attempt to still his form. It was the first week of dealing with Stuart’s withdrawal and already, Murdoc had been in the same position multiple times, with his fingers tangled gently into the blue strands of Stuart’s hair and with the man’s head in his lap.  
“I-I need my meds, Muds,” Stuart whimpered, voice feeble and trembling. “Please, please,” his tone continued to break despite that his throat was absolutely raw. Murdoc shook his head sadly, despite that he knew that with both the darkness of the room and Stuart’s poor eyesight combined that he would not have been able to see the action.  
“Darling, we’ve already given you more than we should have,” Murdoc murmured, moving one hand away from where it had been rubbing circles into Stuart’s forehead and pulling his sleeve up. Lovingly, he began to dab away the tears that streaked the larger man’s cheeks. “Tell me what hurts.”  
Stuart released a slow, drawn-out moan and leaned into the gentle touch, sniffling. “M’ head,” he responded, sucking in a deep breath and quieting in thought. After a moment, he released this puff of air, allowing his eyes to open just slightly.  
“Do you want to sit up, love? Let me help you,” Murdoc offered, snaking an arm around the man’s long torso and another reaching to support his head. “Gently now, ‘right? Don’t strain yourself.” Murdoc was forced to support the majority of Stuart’s weight in his weakness. He had been running a high fever for three days in addition to migraines, often spending half of his days on the bathroom floor. Noodle and Murdoc had been working to keep him hydrated, forcing the straw past his lips despite his protests. Russel was there to run to the pharmacy whenever they requested, grumbling as though he were expected to despite that he visibly was worried for Stuart as well.  
Stuart leaned back against Murdoc’s chest, allowing for his head to fall back into the crook of the smaller man’s neck. His face was pressed into Murdoc’s skin, sweat and tears and all. Of course, Murdoc couldn’t have cared less. The two had been in a relationship for decades- and had been in a healthy relationship since living in the Spirit House. Even before then, the two had experienced their post-hangover sicknesses together. The closeness of the two was nothing at such a point; they were two halves of the same whole and such intimate, personal love was far from abnormal.  
“Could you drink some more water for me, love? It’ll make you feel better,” Murdoc requested, reaching to grasp the water bottle at the bedside, straw sliding about inside. When Stuart shook his head in protest, Murdoc released a heavy breath, quite obviously exhausted from the days and days of caring for his lover. “C’mon, Stu. You’ve gotta drink some- trust me, ‘right?” He seemed to take no opinion from the other at such a point, his free hand reaching to pry Stuart’s lips apart while he slid the straw into the gap between his teeth. While Stuart sipped obediently from the bottle, Murdoc continued to run hands through his hair. It was one thing that he knew would comfort Stuart; after so long, he had become adjusted to all of Stuart’s sensitivities.  
“Muds, I’m gon’ be sick,” Stuart mumbled once he had pulled off from the straw, skin flushing even paler if at all possible. Murdoc responded immediately, sliding the water bottle to sit on the bedside table and exchanging it instead for the empty ice cream pail that sat there. He sat the bucket in Stuart’s lap and leaned his torso forward, making sure to support him so that he wouldn’t fold over. His free arm went to lay across Stuart’s spine, long nails gracing gently over the curves of his ribs. He continued to comfort the man like this, whispering quiet encouragements until he began to gag, pulling the bucket up close to his face.  
“You’re doin’ so good, love,” Murdoc sighed, unable to resist scrunching his broken nose in discomfort as he watched the other man wretch so violently into the bucket. His palm smoothed over the t-shirt which clung to Stuart’s thin frame, wincing at how pronounced his bones felt beneath the fabric- especially as he hadn’t been able to keep much down fora few days. “It’s alrigh’, you’ll be okay,” Murdoc hummed gently, kissing over Stuart’s shoulder blade as an act of comfort. He buried his face there, simply allowing for himself to breathe until Stuart had finally ceased his gagging.  
“M-Muds,” was all that Stuart could force past his lips, his entire form trembling ruthlessly beneath Murdoc’s hold. His fingers dug harshly into the plastic of the bucket, shaking so violently that Murdoc was momentarily afraid that the contents of the pail would be spilled. Murdoc sat up, wasting no time once he realized Stuart’s fragile state.  
“Noodle!” He called, the loud tone causing Stuart to jump in shock. Luckily, took only moments for the door to open, the girl- well, woman- scurrying in quickly to their aid.  
“Toochie,” she sighed, sitting down beside the tall man’s trembling form and brushing hair away from his face. She seemed to be pondering something particular and retrieved the pail from Stuart, flashing Murdoc a look which read ‘one moment’ before she disappeared behind the door. She returned about one minute later, armed with a wet cloth. She urged Murdoc to move aside slightly, taking his place so that she might run the warm cloth over the man’s cheeks. Once she had swiped away the remnants of fluid, she ran the other side of the fabric over Stuart’s hair, cleaning out all the various oils and other elements which had been left for days on end. Finally, she set this aside and combed through the hair with her nimble fingers, fastening the strands into a loose ponytail so that it would be out of Stuart’s face.  
“Thanks, Noods,” Stuart managed, voice impossibly hoarse. His tone trembled and Murdoc could sense that he wasn’t well simply from the undertones of emotions which threatened to break past his front.  
“Thank you, Noodle,” Murdoc smiled gratefully, sliding back into his place behind Stuart and flashing her a look which indicated that she would be best to leave. The young woman nodded in silent understanding, gathering any empty dishes and dirty clothes as she left. Once the door had firmly shut, Murdoc leaned forward and embraced Stuart from behind. “Alright, you big baby, let’s have a drink to get that taste from your mouth.” He decided out loud, reaching once more for the water bottle. Stuart began to sip up some water without protest, clearly attempting to maintain his composure. When the man pulled off from the straw and sat back, his lips were visibly trembling even through the darkness of the room though he attempted to turn his face away from the other. His palm came up to rest against his cheek, rubbing halfheartedly at the moisture which flooded down his cheeks despite his efforts to hold it in.  
Murdoc could feel a knot growing in his stomach as he looked on. He was tired- so, so tired. He had only managed to grab a few hours of sleep in the last few days when Stuart’s fever waned enough for the man to rest his head. Years ago, he would have scoffed at the very idea of staying by Stuart’s side through such a thing. But withdrawal was a bitch, he knew that much- and he didn't have to hide that he loved Stuart. He also knew that. Even so, his heart sunk as he watched the other, shivering and hiccuping as he tried to suck in his tears by sheer willpower. The fever wouldn’t allow for it; the tears continued to come.  
“Stu,” Murdoc sighed gently, reaching out to curl his hand gently around Stuart’s wrist. He didn’t even have the chance to say another word before the man pulled his arm away harshly, curling into himself further.  
“Don’t,” was all that he said, voice breaking even on the single syllable. He sat there for a moment, still besides his trembling, and continuing to face away from the older.  
“Stuart, talk to me,” Murdoc urged, more commanding than sympathetic. Even with years of having dealt through his emotions, he still felt an inexplicable surge of anger at the man’s denial of his love. It took a moment for Stuart to suck in enough air to even form a coherent word, let alone a sentence without falling apart.  
“I-I feel so stupid,” Stuart admitted, barely a whisper. “I don’ even know why ‘m crying anymore. I just wan’ it to stop.” Murdoc didn’t dare to press regarding what “it” was. Something in him told him that he wouldn’t like the answer.  
“You’re not stupid, Stu-Pot. You're sick- it’s okay to cry.” His voice was gentle, finally trying to reach out to him again. His hand lay flat against Stuart’s thigh, causing the man to flinch at first but soothing this shock my rubbing soft circles into the bare skin that laid just below the leg of Stuart’s boxers. “Don’t call yourself stupid again, ‘right? Jus- c’mere, love,” Murdoc urged, moving himself forward so that he could be in closer proximity to the other.  
He began to fuss over Stuart once the man had relaxed, pressing the back of his palm to the man’s forehead and frowning at how warm he was. He hooked his long fingers under the hem of Stuart’s shirt and helped him to pull it off of his flushed chest, instead draping his shoulders with a sheet when the younger moaned in protest. After he’d wrapped the man up adequately, he pulled him back against his chest and let his own spine rest against the wall, knowing that his old back wouldn’t be able to support them both for long. Instead of talking, they just sat in the darkness until Stuart’s shoulders began to shake with sobs. Murdoc’s stomach lurched at this, but he continued to hold on, pressing his lips to the hot, pale neck over and over until Stuart’s sniffling seemed to quell.  
“You know I love you, right, dullard?” He mumbled against the damp skin, seemingly only able to say such a term of endearment if he followed it up with an insult. Stuart didn’t pay any mind to it, though, still besides the hiccuping of his chest. Murdoc’s palm smoothed over where Stuart’s blue strands had been pulled back into Noodle’s ponytail, allowing for his eyes to fall closed if only for a moment.  
“I know,” Stuart sniffed, rubbing sleepily at his eyes to clear the wetness away. His voice was small, almost juvenile in nature. “I love you too, M-Muds.”  
It wasn’t long until Stuart’s head began to feel heavy on his shoulders and he allowed it to fall back against Murdoc’s shoulder. His arm had curled around Murdoc’s shoulder, fingers twirling the raven strands at the base of the man’s neck until his movements slowed and his eyes drifted closed. Only once he was sure that Stuart was asleep did Murdoc allow for himself to say what he really wanted to say, mismatched eyes trained steadily on the tired, pale face.  
“I love you, darling. You’re gonna get through this.”


End file.
